Dangerous Seduction

by Diana Rose Wilson

  He held her hand in his, gazing at the birthmark on her palm, lightly stroking around it. When his touch brushed over it, a wild thrill surged through her. Her toes curled as the tingling heat spread from the back of her throat directly to her sex.

  A pleased smile curled his lips as he watched her response.

  “What the fuck was that?” she asked, breathless.

  “Mmmm, our connection,” he whispered and, holding her gaze, bowed his head and brushed his lips along the dark bronze, hourglass-shaped mark on her skin. There were orgasms that didn’t feel as good as the sensation blazing inside her. Her hips rolled upward as she felt her sex melt in a glorious spasm of heat and liquid.

  The devilish smile curled up the corners of his lips as he watched her response.

  “The…the what?” she gasped, blinking stars out of her vision.

  “Connection.” Ducking his head, he held out his palm to her, showing off his mark—a feather, which was burgundy against his skin. “Some older, powerful bloodlines have their symbols.”

  “Valkyrie?” she asked softly.

  “Not only Valkyrie. Some members of the tribes have them, too. The saying goes—blood calls to blood and the heart calls to the heart. Blood being family ties. That is how my father knew I was not some by-blow without doing a paternity test. Heart calling to heart is what you and I have. Soul mates. As I just proved.”

  “That didn’t prove anything.” She laughed and took his hand, smiling and nuzzling her cheek against his palm.

  “Oh? You didn’t feel it?” he whispered, expression intense.

  “Soul mates sounds crazy.”

  “You just want me to call us soul bound?” he teased, watching her, his silver gaze sharp. “My sexy deviant.”

  When her lips brushed against the mark on his palm, he gasped, and his body jerked as hers had. The connection shared with him deepened and solidified. She felt certain they’d done this before. They’d had this conversation before.

  She smelled floral notes and tasted tart pear under her tongue. The memory flashed through her mind of him picking blossoms from her hair while they kissed. She felt as if it all had just happened.

  “The night I saw you in the hall, it felt as though I was punched in the heart. I might not know the traditions or rituals or much of anything, but that was eye-opening.”

  He curled his fingers against her jaw, his eyes shining with love and desire. “I’ll teach you what I can. Gods, I wish Amy was here.” He paused as his nose crinkled. “Although I guess you and I might not have met if she were.”

  “Who is Amy anyway?”

  She smiled at him and playfully licked the mark. He snarled low in his throat, eyes rolling back before she relented.

  “Fuck, you are evil!” he panted, sliding a hand through her hair as he pulled her face to his to kiss her softly. “I…um…I’ll explain but if you keep doing that to my hand, I’m going to need to spread you out and fuck you first.”

  The heavy déjà vu faded when he released her, and they broke contact with each other. He stepped away and paced a few steps, composing himself.

  Here it was. Here were her answers. Her pulse sped with a spike of adrenaline.

  “Amy Welton was a wonderful, smart, strong and lovely woman.” He spoke quietly and with such respect that he might have been talking about a priestess or goddess.

  Marcie didn’t know why her heart hammered so fucking hard. “She passed away recently?”

  He nodded, his jaw working. He glanced at her and then away. “She hasn’t been gone very long. Everyone is clamoring to fill and patch the holes she left behind before everything sinks. We’re in a delicate situation as ranks shift.”

  When she walked closer and slid her arms around him, he looked up at her, searching her eyes.

  Can I trust you? he asked in that look.

  She cupped his face, smoothing her fingers through his beard and mustache. Leaning in, she answered with a fierce kiss. She bruised his mouth with hers. With your life! She sealed her promise with the fire and love in her heart. She would never betray him.

  Never!

  When the kiss broke, he slid his thumb over her lips, his expression full of pain and sadness, not the cocky, playful little devil she adored. This was the man who had let obligations mute his sexual desires his whole life.

  “Would you have been with her if she were still alive?” Marcie asked, forcing the words out. Her blood roared through her, making her feel a little faint.

  Mano narrowed his eyes with a mixture of horror and shock. “Absolutely not! She was a sister to me.” Pulling Marcie closer, he held her tightly, bringing her hand to his lips and kissed it. Heart calls to heart. Damn! No mistaking it, and she wouldn’t trade that for anything! “And she was my friend, my teacher, leader and spiritual advisor. Besides, her beloved would have killed me.”

  Marcie tightened her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his. This time she didn’t press for more information, sensing him struggling through his grief before he spoke.

  “She owned a bar in town called The Pickled Salamander. I owe her my life and sanity.” His expression turned bitter. “Imagine me, fresh from Hawaii, away from my father’s seat of power, the boy-child my mother didn’t want. I was an up-jump freshman in this tiny town with a volcano-sized chip on my shoulder.” He smirked. “Then there’s Amy—a cheerleader with a football-jock boyfriend. Her friends took it upon themselves to crush me like a bug. I had not come into my own, you understand.” He motioned to his body—the armor of his tattoos.

  “So, you couldn’t shark them in the swimming pool?” she asked, nuzzling into his arms.

  “No, love.” He laughed softly and explained, “My bloodline comes into their talent late in life. I was helpless against them. So, I dabbled when I shouldn’t have. I dicked around with mysteries and powers that were way over my head. I tumbled from the tower, as they say.” He crinkled his nose and watched her to see if she was processing all this.

  “Is it black magic? Curses?”

  “If you have to put a name to it, sure. It was very bad juju. That sort of thing can leave a stain on you forever. I got my ass in serious danger and Amy put herself in harm’s way to save me. She stuck her neck out to keep her thug friends from making red goo out of fourteen-year-old me. It didn’t help her popularity. It actually made life very bad for her. She made enemies and rivals that followed her through her whole life.”

  “Shit.” Marcie frowned. “How is it no one else knows about this? How is this even real?”

  “Well, this is a tiny, nowhere town. Besides, people know about magic. You do. Right? We just keep the real stuff quiet. Most people don’t have the ability to see in the first place. It’s never what they expect. It’s fucking dangerous to dabble. I know firsthand. The tribes take extra care to keep the secrets. It’s one of the reasons traditions are lost.”

  “Except you’re telling me,” she reminded him.

  He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “You are not a pawn, love. You are a queen with talent and your own seat of power.” He motioned around the room to indicate the house. “You share the connection with my seat now. I know you’re not going to start recruiting punk-ass brats to back you or risk lives building your foundation indiscriminately. I am also not a blue blood, so I tend to bend the rules. A lot.”

  “Yeah, this doesn’t make me feel any better.” It didn’t resolve the questions she had. These were not the answers she needed. She was more confused than ever. “I don’t enjoy feeling clueless. You know all these rituals and the traditions. I know a bunch of junk from Harry Potter and Harry Dresden. Not helpful.”

  He sputtered quietly. “Fuck. You are doomed.”

  “So, no wands?”

  “No! No calling down lightning either,” he said with a wink. “No werewolves and no vampires.”

  “Just were-fishes.”

  He smiled adoringly at her and tickled her with his roaming fingers. “Spirit-beasts
, love. I know this is awkward. It will take time to feel comfortable.”

  Awkward didn’t begin to cover it. Strange. Unsettling. Bizarre. The demand to know more tugged at her, making her feel irritable.

  He regarded her curiously. “All right, I’ll show you the greeting. This is for local tribes, between people here with talent. Sages and spirit-beasts.”

  Secret witch salute, she thought, and Mano’s golden eyebrows arched up as though he heard her thought.

  “I’m sorry!” She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax. “I feel ridiculous.” Drawing in a slow, steady breath, she balanced herself. “All right, I’m ready. Please, show me.”

  Letting out the wary breath, he made a fist and pressed it to his chest. For a moment he posed for her. “This is, ‘I am one of the tribe.’ You can make it a question.” He smoothed his hand open to demonstrate.

  “Tribe? Am I?” she asked and felt herself blushing. “Am I a spirit-beast?”

  He searched her gaze and she felt a prickle of warmth behind her eyes, in her head. He purred low in his throat, “Oh, yes, love. And you have a new, little tribe.”

  She felt more heat in her cheeks. Did that mean she was a shark? Something else? She thought of her friends who would be here soon and felt herself smile. They might not be related by blood, but she was closer to them than some families she knew. Was that all it took? He inclined his head, his smile fierce.

  “That’s right. You have more claims to tribe rights than most of the jerks around here. So, yes. Maybe not traditional blood-to-blood, as some of the bigoted blue bloods will be sure to tell you, but fuck them.”

  He made the gesture again, and this time he held the stance longer, his body bowing just slightly toward her respectfully. “This is ‘I have your back.’ This is how you would greet an ally. Someone you are close with. Or let someone know you’re supporting them.”

  He winked and did it again, this time it seemed more profound and was held longer, poised with a military dedication. “‘I am your man.’ Or woman in your case. It’s what you would do for family or lover or oath-bound.”

  She recalled him doing that same motion to her when he’d given her the necklace. The intense gesture, the gleam of emotion tearing up his silver gaze. He’d also done it to Ursa.

  She frowned. “This is crazy. Seats of power? Salutes? Tribes? Spirit-beasts? Sages? Tower tumbling? Sharks! Bikers! Valkyrie! Blessed knives!” Sighing, she closed her eyes.

  “All mere dust on the surface, love.”

  None of his words answered what she needed. And she couldn’t put her finger on just what she wanted to ask. “God. I need a shower. I need time to process all this.”

  He searched her eyes, his expression worried. “Of course, love. Take as much time as you need.” Wariness showed in the tightness of his lips as he drew back a step. “I’ll answer any questions you have,” he murmured.

  “I don’t even know where to start. And I need to sift through what you just told me.” How much of what he’d said did she believe?

  Everything.

  “You are safer here than you ever were with my auntie. How often did you worry your armor wouldn’t protect you?”

  She remembered the days of girding herself against the unseen dangers. Every day she’d slipped on her corporate mask and weapons. She felt her wings tighten at her shoulders and realized that even though they were not expressed at the time, they were always part of her. She recalled the wary looks Beatrix fixed her with from time to time before focusing Marcie on a target. An acquisition to obtain. A problem to fix. A puzzle to solve.

  Marcie was the weapon.

  All along they’d known her potential and kept her hobbled, wings clipped and clueless. They’d used her. Just as they had Leo and Travis and…who else?

  Mano let out a soft breath as though he felt her understanding. “People here are, um, not Valkyrie. Well…” He hesitated and then grinned. “The Harrises and Wallaces are not.”

  The way he said it reminded her that What he told her hardly began to explain anything. Those were only two families out of how many? How many rules and rituals didn’t she know about? The yearning to know more stabbed into her. What about the other families? Were there Valkyrie there?

  Shouldn’t she find them?

  She frowned, angrily pushing the thought away. She most certainly was not going to look for Valkyrie. Fuck that.

  “Small steps, love,” Mano said softly and kissed her cheek before slipping out of the room, letting her have her solitude to process all the information.

  * * * *

  December 22, 2015

  Before the interview

  Marcie woke to music and singing coming from the lower level of the house.

  “Evil goats bite demonic fish,” Mano’s voice sang out with laughter. Notes on strings echoed each word as though demonstrating. Then silence.

  “I don’t think that’s how it goes,” Leo said, his voice a deep rumble.

  “Fine, the traditional way to remember the notes is boring. Every good boy does fine—E, G, B, D, F.” The notes plucked out without nearly the same flourish. “That’s rubbish. Now you try.”

  Marcie rolled onto her side and peered at the closed door and hugged onto her pillow as she listened. She could picture the scene in the big sunroom, Mano strumming the smaller of the harps, Leo with the larger. Oh, it was almost more than her heart could take.

  The next pluck of strings twanged in discord, followed by Ursa’s delighted giggles.

  “Good try. Watch again. Evil goats bite demonic fish!” A pretty note punctuated each word.

  Fuck.

  How did that beautiful little man know how to play the harp? Another layer stripped away for her. Heir apparent, Kyrie, biker, shark, and harpist. Spirit-beast. Sage.

  Complicated.

  Marcie rolled up from the bed, noticing the note on the pillow on Mano’s side of the bed.

  Wanted to let you sleep. Will be downstairs.

  Love M

  The next notes reverberated with a harsh whine of strings.

  “Maybe you’re more of a tabor guy,” Mano teased.

  More giggles from Ursa.

  Smiling, Marcie rolled out of bed, expecting to feel pain. Instead, she felt wonderful. Her back didn’t hurt at all. Even the new heaviness on her shoulders didn’t unbalance her. Last night had been wonderful. The amazing meal had delighted her. She’d fallen asleep the moment she stretched out in bed. She couldn’t even stay awake to follow up on the footsies and teasing she and Mano had enjoyed all evening. She needed to ask Sean what he had done to the food.

  This was the start of a new life! Her friends felt closer than family to her. Ursa and Vans were her sisters; Travis and Leo her brothers. Her heart swelled. She loved them so damn much it hurt!

  She would get her family away from Beatrix Engel and Alder Enterprises. The interview would be successful today and she might get leads for Leo and Travis. She knew Leo was ready to move on, but Travis was going to take a lot more convincing. Her intuition whispered that everything would work out. One small step at a time.

  Small steps.

  The harp music rang out in a graceful waterfall of notes. “There were bells on the hill, but I never heard them ringing. No, I never heard them at all, ’til there was you,” Mano sang. His voice matched the rest of him—beautiful. It was a bright, clear tenor, bordering on angelic.

  Heat rushed to Marcie’s face and his voice pulled against her. With a smile, she grabbed her robe and swirled the blue silk over her shoulders. Under the bandages, her wings rustled, longing to be free. She didn’t look forward to unveiling the ugly things.

  “There were birds in the sky, but I never saw them winging. No, I never saw them at all, ’til there was you.”

  She padded down the hall and stairs, toward the sound of the music and his golden voice.

  For a moment she leaned against the doorway and admired the scene in her sunroom. Mano and Leo were dressed only in un
derwear, sitting on pillows with the harps. Mano had the larger between his powerful thighs, head tipped so his hair spilled down over his chest and shoulder while he played. His wings were spread wide, soaking in the sunlight. His dark tattoos seemed to swim and ripple along his arms as he stroked the strings of the instrument.

  Leo watched with a bemused expression, the smaller harp between his long legs. It took her a moment to process what was different about the big man. She could actually see his wings. At first it was only a play of shadow but when she focused, she saw them. It took an effort, but the strong wings solidified. Unlike the wider sweep of Mano’s, Leo’s were sharp and angular, the color lighter in contrast to his dark skin. They were cream-colored with bars and tips of bronze and gold rather than Mano’s golden feathers tipped with white.

  Ursa watched Leo from the couch where she was stretched out. She wore a plush white robe. The woman was lost in her man, gazing at him as though she were thinking of new ways to devour him.

  This is exactly as it should be!

  Her people. Her tribe.

  Mano looked up, his smile widening when he saw her, as though he could hear her thoughts and felt the same.

  Their tribe.

  A fierce, protective surge of emotion made her eyes fill with tears.

  “And there was music, and there were wonderful roses.” His silver eyes twinkled up at her as he sang. Looking devilish, he stilled the strings with his long fingers. “Good morning, schatzi! You didn’t tell me you had harps.”

  “You didn’t tell me you played the harp,” she answered, wiping her eyes.

  “All part of a proper Adler education. Harp, singing, fencing, horseback riding and tennis.” He blew her a kiss. “It made me so cool in high school.”

  Leo’s wings snapped closed, folding tightly to his back to hide. He looked as though she’d just discovered his darkest, dirtiest secret. “Hey, Marcie.” His deep voice sounded wary. Obviously, the big man was ashamed of his wings.